Our Adventure

Back so many years ago (okay, like 9 years), as I was preparing to marry my love, I read the John Eldridge book Wild At Heart.  Say what you will, but that man can energize with his words.  I was bouncing up and down, ready to take on the world with Chris.  I remember excitedly talking about the book with him, about our future together, and ready to dream big.  "What is our adventure going to be?" I asked.  Chris gave me the dubious look I have come to know and love and sometimes resent.  He said our adventure for the time being would have to be living on a single income, as he was still looking for real, full-time work after dropping out of college.  Not the answer I was hoping for.  But we got married, he did find a good job to help pay the bills, and life started happening.  Within two years we were expecting our first child, Chris was going back to school, I was thinking about quitting my job to be a stay at home mom.  It seemed like adventure was on its way in the form of midnight feedings and exploding diapers.  We bought a house and settled in, getting used to being parents and a family of three.  Chris kept at the work and school, I tried to figure out what I was doing with my baby.  When the first year passed and we had kept our little guy alive, we started thinking about another baby, and shortly after James turned two, we welcomed Winston.  Chris finally finished school and we were a family of four, just your typical suburban dream.  But still I longed for Adventure.

It started small, a yellow highlighter through the books I was reading, a whisper as I scanned newspaper headlines.  When I look back now, I see a bright ribbon woven through my life from the very beginning, a ribbon that leads to children.  Children who are hurting, children who have been abandoned.  And the voice whispering, "They need good people to help them.  They need parents who will heal them."  And the realization: We are good people.  Chris and I are good parents.  They need us.  Slowly, timidly, we talked about foster care.  Slowly, timidly, we looked into the reality.  Slowly, timidly, we went to a local children's home for the weekend.  And that was when we said the bold YES.  Yes, we will do this.  Yes, we will be the parents who help children heal.  Yes, there are many reasons to hold off and wait, but there is one reason (one way more important reason) to say yes now.  Because they need us.  Now.

We began our training classes in March.  In fact, we spent our sixth wedding anniversary learning about attachment disorders with Miss Jan.  At one point, as we left another totally depressing class, Chris turned to me and said, "I don't think I can do this.  Its too much, the hurt and the brokenness."  I nodded.  He was absolutely right.  Our hearts broke each day as we learned about what happens to kids who are abused, neglected, abandoned.  Then I said, "There are always going to be kids in foster care.  The abuse isn't going to stop.  And knowing what we know now, I can't just go back home and pretend like its not happening.  We have the opportunity to help."  And the doubt was gone.  We were full-steam ahead through all the paperwork and interviews and inspections, and in eight months time, we were licensed foster parents.  They called us to take baby Michael after a month of waiting.  That placement became an adoption and now we are the happy parents of three amazing boys.  So we became open again.  We waited five months for a call, and were so excited on the day one finally came.  But within 15 minutes the circumstances had changed and there was no placement.  We waited some more.  The next week, a call came to provide respite.  This is a short-term placement wherein one foster family watches the foster kids of another family while they are out of town, medically unable to care for the kids, overwhelmed, whatever.  Only one thing gave me pause.  There were two kids needing beds, a brother and sister.  If you're doing the math, that would mean five days with five kids in the house.  Maxed out for space in the car and the beds.  Food disappearing from the fridge at an even faster rate.  I looked at the phone for a beat, and then said yes.  This is our adventure.  This is our calling.  This is our heart.  (And not to brag or anything, but we totally nailed it.  It was exhausting, it was challenging.  But we did it.)

While we were hosting these two spunky siblings, I read the story about Davion and his plea for parents.  I cried at how many children are still waiting for that placement, stuck in group homes or an endless parade of placements because there aren't enough good people willing to become foster parents.  I remember how scary it seemed to open our home to an unknown child with unknown issues.  I know its different from the Hallmark picture of giving birth in a halo of light to a child who will be yours and yours alone forever.  But if you are reading this, nodding your head and agreeing, Yes, they need parents!  They deserve parents! Please.  PLEASE.  Consider what you can do, right now, to change the life of a child in foster care.  Because as long as there are people looking for a way out of their present reality through drugs or alcohol or World of Warcraft, there will be dealers and enablers, and the children will suffer the most.  As long as there are cycles of abuse and poverty, with no one to intervene with education and healing, children will be at risk.  They are the most vulnerable people in the world, and they need someone to stand up, to speak out, to give them a safe place to grow.  Its my adventure, and it might be yours too.

For local folks: www.starkadoptfoster.com
For the US: www.heartgalleryofamerica.org

On Your 31st Birthday

On our way to Prom, 2001

If you met your husband when you were both 17, you may be so impressed with the person he has become by 31 that you have to wonder if he's the same person.  Because you remember that boy who made your insides vibrate when he looked at you, talked to you, made you laugh.  You remember how strong his pull was, that you just wanted to be around him all the time.  And then your flirtation became a Relationship, and you went from being two lovely, perfect creatures to real people with flaws and differing points of view.  And you watched him spend his graduation money on CDs at Best Buy, and then hide them under his driver's seat because his mom would lecture him about it and you wondered if someday you would be the one he would hide things from under the driver's seat.  And he made friends with a ridiculous group of guys at college, and you were grateful for the distance because it meant you didn't have to go with them on group outings and when he told you stories about them over the phone he didn't see how many times you rolled your eyes.  And you wondered if they would ruin him, this sweet boy who gave you the cherry off his ice cream sundaes and waited weeks to kiss you, who wrote you silly poems and insisted that you had to have A Song because all couples have A Song, and when you decided on one you both liked, he preferred the one from the Notting Hill soundtrack and you were adamant that it had to be the Alison Krauss version.  So you weighed these things, the douchebag friends and the daddy issues and the conflict avoidance and the fact that he was really cute and had a nice car and loved you and when he held you it was like the earth shifted so that everything was right at last.  You didn't know which was more important and you wanted it to be like a math equation, except math was always your worst subject and this wasn't an algebra test, this was real life, this was maybe the most important decision ever, whether to fall head over heels or turn and run.  And then suddenly, it wasn't a choice anymore, it was inevitable that your life was going to merge with his, and so when he got down on one knee, you barely listened to everything that he said, you just waited for that question so you could say YES!  And then the day came when you said your vows, you were both still so young, but you'd been to weddings where the bride and groom were both younger than you, and it made you feel like you were old getting married at 22.  And it didn't take two weeks before you realized just how vulnerable you had made yourself, that you had given this person your life and your heart and he could destroy you completely.  And every time you passed one of those billboards for "when a diamond isn't forever", you prayed that you'd never have to call 1-800-DIVORCE, that you would treat each other as tenderly as the cake you placed in each others' mouths in that rented hall as everyone looked on.  Because he was still a boy, so much so that when you opened a drawer to put your clothes with his you found a note from his mom that said "Don't forget to shower and put on deodorant" and you couldn't believe that the person who held your heart had trouble remembering something so basic.

First Father's Day 2007

But you built a home together, one that was filled with garage sale furniture that you proudly brought home in your tiny Saturn, and the Dave Matthews posters decorating your bedroom, and the ceiling above the bathtub that caved in so you could wave up to the couple who lived upstairs and fought constantly until one day the lady was gone and it was silent up there and the ceiling was fixed and you didn't see anyone anymore.  And you learned together, and when he got the call that his aunt died, you knew that as much as your heart was breaking, his was breaking worse, and so you held it together and packed his black pants and sport coat and held his hand.  And when you peed on that stick and the two pink lines popped up, and you felt dizzy and sick and completely overwhelmed, he hugged you and insisted on going out for steak to celebrate because this was Good News, and he held it together while you puked and cried and threatened to shove a peanut butter sandwich down his throat, so help me God I wanted crunchy peanut butter, not creamy, and he drove to Taco Bell at 1am because you just had to have a crunchy taco (what was with the crunchy cravings?).  And when you held that baby in your arms, that life that you created together, you looked at him and didn't see a boy anymore, he had somehow become a man, a father, and he took that title so seriously and went to work without complaining anymore, and said, Yes of course you should be home with the baby, I'll make the ends meet all by myself, and suddenly you were home owners and he was cleaning out gutters and mowing the yard.  And you tried not to be surprised every month when he paid the bills on time, but it was still hard to believe that he was prioritizing the mortgage over a new Playstation.  And then another baby came and he shocked you even more by cleaning the bathroom without being asked and he learned to cook really good food and suddenly he was switching from Sports Center to the Food Network and was so confident and in charge.  And so you returned to the math equation, the listing of the good and bad, and his hair was disappearing every day, but so was Prince William's and if its okay for a prince then it should be good enough for the love of your life, and beyond the looks you noticed integrity and honesty and maturity, handling difficult situations and refinancing the house to get a lower interest rate and getting up in the middle of the night to clean up the kids' puke and then coming in and cleaning up your puke and you knew that you couldn't do it if the situation was reversed.  And he updates your phone and finds educational apps for the iPad, and even after all these years, he makes you laugh.  And when your car breaks down on vacation and your aunt dies and your sister moves across the country and the doctors say there is something wrong with your son, he holds your hand and there is no one you would rather be with when everything is falling apart.  And when your bank account is overflowing and your best friend comes for a visit and the flowers that you planted are blooming, there is no one you would rather be with.  And then you discover this common desire, this wish to give a child a home, and together you fill out the endless paperwork and go to the classes and then suddenly the phone is ringing and there is a baby for you, and together you nurse this little life and make him your own and you see that the love he has for the new child is just as fierce and strong as the love he has for the ones you made together.  And you hear him at night, tucking the kids in bed, praying with them, reading from the storybook Bible, and you know that he is sharing his deepest self with them.

Family picture 2012

You wonder.  Where is that 17 year old boy?  Of course he is still there in the face, if you Wooly Willy some hair back down his forehead and trim the beard back so its just a goatee, and when the radio station plays hits from the 90's, you see him in the man bobbing back and forth and rocking out to the songs you both loved from the time when you were falling in love.  And he's there in the laugh that still shakes his whole body and the earnest eyes that are all-too-often weary and frustrated these days, when the kids won't go to bed and the appliances need to be replaced and there aren't enough hours in the day.  And you realize that he needs to get away, to take a few days and relax, and so you book a cabin for two and you get your parents to watch the boys and once again you pack his bags because he is threatening to only bring a toothbrush and you know that the people you pass by on your little trip will definitely not want to be seeing all of that.  And you try to think of a way to let him know just how much he means to you, how much better your life is because he's in it, and you hope that he feels the same about you.  You hope he still sees glimpses of that 17 year old girl you used to be, the one who loved to watch movies and eat ice cream and laugh at all his jokes.  The one who always had a hard time saying the Real Stuff out loud, who never quite got the right tone of voice to say "I love you" and didn't know what to think of a boy opening doors for her and offering to hold her purse.

Making Memories

James and I lay snuggled inside a blanket on the grass.  The sunlight filtered through the fabric to illuminate our faces.  I looked at him and saw, not the tall slender six year old he has become, with long fingers and big knuckles, adult teeth crowding the tiny baby teeth in his mouth, but the chubby cheeks and big, watchful eyes of my baby.  They're still in there, although that face is growing and changing and becoming more mature.  When I look at him, I remember.  I remember long nights and quiet cries that seemed to fill our entire half of the duplex.  I remember awkward steps and cuts and bruises and even louder cries that turned into determination to master the new skills.  I remember the clinging hugs during evaluations and the reports and forms that attempted to quantify this child who refuses to fit on a piece of paper. 

I wonder what he will remember of these years.  Will he remember when I was there or the times I wasn't?  Will he remember love and gentle touches, or will he remember anger and red marks on his bottom?  Will he remember looking at me through tear-filled eyes, and will the image be calm and steady or irritated and unpredictable?  Will he remember the trips we take, whether down the street to the playground or across the country on a plane?  Will he remember the stories we read?  Will he remember the early mornings and the middle of the night cuddles?  Will he remember when we brought home babies and called them brothers?  Will he remember the summer nights when we lay on the lawn and watched the stars in the sky?

Will his memories be full of love that sustains him through the difficulties of life, and will they remind him that there is always a place where he is welcome and safe?  Will he share them with others, will he seek to experience them again from the role of a parent?  Will Mother's Day and Father's Day be a time when he thinks fondly of his childhood and calls up special memories, or will it be a time to avoid us?

I think we all hope that the good outweighs the bad, and the children grow up to be healthy and stable and secure.  That they tell others about the wonderful people who raised them, and sing our praises, and even the moments of discipline and consequences are looked at with appreciation.  And I hope that I can remember snuggling inside a blanket as the sunlight filters through the fabric.

Love Dare part 2

Yes, we are still at it.  We are daring to love every day and learning more than we expected.  Wow.  I can say, I was looking forward to 40 days of lovey-dovey moments with Chris.  I thought we would just sail through these dares and grow closer and smile at how much we love each other.  But what I'm finding is these tasks are doing a great job at shining a light on how poorly I sacrifice for my husband.  I really didn't think of myself as selfish or entitled, but those words came to me this past weekend.  When I stay in bed and expect him to get up with the kids.  When I glare at the full trash can he left for me while he is at work.  When I pass that toy/sticker/apple core/dirty sock on the floor over and over and I REFUSE to pick it up, because I do enough around here, that should be his job.  And so I chose to email my Village sisters and tell them this discovery I had.  It was hard to be that honest.  But then today's dare was about being intimate, about trusting my spouse with everything.  So I told him the same thing.  And it was so much harder than even that email, to look at his face agreeing with me as I said those words out loud.  Ugh.  And I don't want to change.  I don't want to be better somedays.  I DO do alot around here.  But I know that I need to get my butt out of bed.  I need to partner with this man more fully, take the burden more equally.

Because the other thing these Dares are showing me is what an incredible man I married.  I talked with Liga (in my head I always call her Lovely Liga, and I think one of these days its going to slip out when I'm actually talking to her), who met her husband when they were stupid, immature teenagers, just like me and Chris.  And we agreed that looking back at the beginning of our relationships at the boys we fell in love with, kind of makes us cringe at how low our standards were.  And how those boys became men who just make our jaws drop sometimes, that we got so lucky to have these men marry us and give us children to raise together.  Nothing Chris did while we were dating(or even that first year of marriage) comes anywhere close to the ways that he impresses me and loves me and challenges me today.  Seriously, 17 year old Rachel, you won the husband lottery when you lost your mind for that boy at work who smiled at you and told funny jokes and had kind of a cool car.  You didn't know then (how could you, you were such a moron, and worse, you thought you were pretty smart) that he would turn out to be self-less and kind, laid-back and thoughtful, gentle and strong, tender and bold.  You just wanted to kiss those full lips and hold hands at the movies and have a date for Prom who wouldn't bring a 2 liter of Pepsi mixed with rum in a backpack (a backpack and a tux, people. Pepsi and rum).  At least the funny thing is still there.  He still makes me laugh.  And taking away distractions and making time to talk more these past 18 days has made me remember just how much I loved to laugh with this man when he was a boy, and I appreciate that I still get to laugh with him now.  Only the jokes are much more personal and special and gut-busting, because what we have is a one flesh, one love partnership.

What I want my sons to learn

" Arrogance? Arrogance is looking at a girl in desperate need of help, looking at a friend who was committing an obvious felony and deciding what the moment called for was an impromptu porn shoot."  -Dan Wetzel

This is Ohio.  We are a people who love football.  No matter which school you matriculated from, odds are you spend your Saturdays in the fall watching Ohio State play.  Local high school teams sell season tickets to people whose children have long since graduated and moved away.  At what point does our fandom become hero worship?  And at what point does that undeserved reverence for teenage boys cross the line to criminal negligence?

"Drunk on their own small-town greatness, they operated unaware of common decency until they went too far, wrote too much, bragged too many times and, finally, on a cold Sunday morning, were hauled out of a small third-floor courtroom as a couple of common criminals."  -Dan Wetzel

As a mother of boys, as a woman, rape offends me.  Reading the sordid details of the Steubenville rape trial makes me want to puke, and then start slapping people.  The boys who saw a drunk girl as an opportunity.  The teenagers who made crass jokes and watched crimes being committed and did nothing.  The adults who supplied alcohol and looked the other way as children pretended to know how to handle the adult freedoms they'd been given.

"Later, Richmond's biological father, Nathaniel, also addressed the court and the victim's family, placing some of the blame for his son's actions on his own life troubles and being an absentee father.
'Everyone knows I wasn't there for my son,' Nathaniel Richmond said. 'I feel responsible for his actions. I feel highly responsible for his actions.'"  -Dan Wetzel

1. Sports and alcohol are mutually exclusive.  I hope my sons take in their father cracking open his Mountain Dew while watching the Browns.  I hope they see alcohol as a taboo until they are adults.  I hope they learn restraint and moderation.

2. Men of integrity.  Moreover, I hope they notice other things their father does.  I hope they see him driving the speed limit and correcting a waitress for leaving an item off our bill and returning library books on time.  These things may seem small, but they add up to a man who is full of integrity.  My husband is a blatant rule-follower, and I expect our sons to realize what a wonderful quality that is.  Then, when the big things, like teen drinking and what to do with a passed out 16 year old girl, come their way, they will know the right course of action.  They won't stand by, look away, or worse yet, join in on criminal behavior.

3. Family ties.  The only way I know to make sure my boys learn these lessons is to teach them.  To teach them each day by the way I live, by the woman I am, but also to say it OUT LOUD.  What must the parents of these boys be thinking tonight as their sons are preparing to spend at least the next year of their lives in juvie?  Are they wondering how it all went wrong?  Are they asking themselves why they never just said, "Don't slap your dick on a drunk girl?"  I plan to talk about sex with my boys many times.  About how it can be beautiful and sacred and uplifting when you join your life to another, and in that process your bodies become one.  About how teenagers often want to experience the momentary thrill of contact, but they aren't ready to commit to everything that comes after.  About how ultimately, the right woman for them will be one who is waiting for them, and they honor her and their maker and their parents when they wait until she comes along.  We will spend time together throughout their high school years.  We will have family game night and movie night and we will go on hikes and attend sporting events.  Maybe some of those nights will prevent them from attending out-of-control parties.  Maybe just hearing their parents talk about sex will make the whole idea repugnant to them until they are mature enough to make good choices.  Maybe that intentional time together will teach them to value every person they meet.  Maybe they will change the world by choosing differently than their peers.  I have to try.  I have to hope. Because today they're boys, but someday they'll be men.  And I don't want my sons to hurt your daughters.

 *Dan Wetzel quoted from his spot-on summary article:
http://sports.yahoo.com/news/highschool--steubenville-high-school-football-players-found-guilty-of-raping-16-year-old-girl-164129528.html